Wing Commander: Veterans' Pride
by Pope Guilty I
Summary: Latest outline following the life of Kruq'nov nar M'krah and his brother Nrsah as Kings of the M'krah Pride. The two warriors are thrust into the middle of politics on Ghorah Khar in the time leading up to the rebellion. Mind the typos (it is an outline after all).
1. Chapter 1

**Veteran's Pride**

**M'krah**

**Ghorah Khar**

Kruq'nov nar M'krah extended a claw to attack an itch along his side. Even after being free of Repleetah all this time, he could still feel the fleas much like a person deprived of a limb swore they still felt its presence. Itch defeated, the former Second Claw stretched out across the bed he lazily lay upon and gave a mighty yawn. As he looked out the window at the rapidly rising sun he decided it was to be yet another good day.

Every day for the past quarter of a Kahrik since he and his sworn brother Nrsah took control of the M'krah Pride has proven to be a good day. Even though his time with the Pride was short, he knew two of the Pride females to already be pregnant by his doing; Ghenkril, the Matriarch's sister expected this to be her last litter, and Shelcha, twin of Keitcha would bear more than this. Kruq'nov glanced over at Keitcha through sleep eyes; twin to her, yes but far from identical.

Keitcha, sitting before a mirror and brushing out her light golden hair, paused as her eyes caught Kruq'nov watching. Of all the females Kruq'nov ever saw, she was by far the most magnificent specimen. He might start the night in her quarters, for siring was a chief duty of Pride kings, but every morning since his reign began he started the day with her.

Kruq'nov was unique amongst his race, for most males cared little for their females beyond the continuation of their own blood line. Throughout Kilrathi history males and females simply used each other to keep the species propagating. Taking a Pride was the most vital event in any male's life. Sometimes Kruq'nov wondered if war was not invented simply to give rouge males something to do until they were ready to become kings.

Keitcha returned her brush to its table and walked towards Kruq'nov. The old veteran watched her tail sway beneath her firm fitting robes. She stopped at the edge of the bed and looked down at the content Kruq'nov. "Are you going to lie there all day? If you spend any more time in here, my sisters will begin to talk."

Kruq'nov growled in amusement. "Let them talk." He knew talking was one thing females did in great abundance. They were fond of the sport and cared not if anyone else knew. There were only two bonds in Kilrathi society stronger than that between sisters; those between males whose brotherhood was forge in battle and that between mothers and cubs. Mother and cub bonds were strongest of all. Though it might have cost him in the eyes of the people, Kruq'nov's decision to spare the male cubs after taking over won him some favor with his females. It was not that he cared for the spawns of the previous males, but rather than the Apes were so proficient at killing off his own kind that Kruq'nov refused to aid them in their endeavor. Instead, they were exiled under pain of death.

"What of your brother?" Keitcha asked in a soft purr. "He will talk too."

Kruq'nov snorted. Brothers spoke, but nowhere near as constant as sisters. What the two brothers had to say to each other were easily compressed into a few sentences instead of lofty speeches. Though he would fight and die for Nrsah, sometimes the elder of the brothers would like to toss his younger comrade out the front door. "He already does. No matter how many times I smack him upside the head he still calls you my lair-mate."

"Am I not?" Keitcha tilted her head, displaying a hurt feeling upon her face.

Kruq'nov saw through her feint. "If I were a high and mighty Lord of the Eight, then of course." Lair-mate was a term for the Eight Prides and Imperial Pride. It was a term used by the reigning king of the Pride to designate the mother of the heir. Like any other males, those thick-headed kings would mate with all the females in the Pride, but seeing as their ranks are inherited, a way was needed to designate heirs. Thus the practice of selecting a chief female among the Pride was adopted.

Kruq'nov did not care to be compared with those males. How many Kilrathi died in the trenches of Repleetah just because they refused to abandon an already dying world?

"Even if you were, you still duties to perform as king," Keitcha reminded him, as she did every morning.

"Ah, but my Queen, I do not neglect my duties." Kruq'nov replied, much in the fashion he usually gave when Keitcha chided him. "Once they are complete, I return to your chambers for it brings me great pleasure to have your face the first sight I see in the morning."

"Such pretty words," Keitcha said with amusement. The previous kings were never given to poetic speaking. They simply did as they pleased and took what they wanted. Keitcha would be supremely surprised if even one of them gave a thought to her as anything more than an incubator for their offspring. "Alas, I was not speaking of genetic donations."

Kruq'nov let out a heavy sigh. He knew full well what she meant, and Kruq'nov never had any problems displaying the colors on Ghorah Khar's field of battle. Less Apes here to snipe at him. Even one of humanity's numbers upon this world was one too many for Kruq'nov's taste. He tried to get the few Terran slaves owned by the M'krah Pride out of the house, but Gherelith, the Pride Matriarch reminded him in no uncertain terms that how the females ran the Pride was none of the males' concern. Rebuked by the Matriarch, Kruq'nov vented his displeasure on the Apes whenever one crossed his path.

Kruq'nov stretched and reluctantly rolled off the bed. "I better go find Nrsah."

"I wonder whose chamber he spent the night in this time," Keitcha mused. "He has taken a liking to all of my younger sisters."

"Sisters, nieces, cousins—" Kruq'nov began to list the relations of all the Pride's younger females. The brothers had little difficulty in dividing up their reproductive duties; Nrsah dealt with the younger females and Kruq'nov with the older. Fortunately, the young Nrsah considered anyone much more than two Shrik to be too old.

"I have never seen a male take to his new duties with such enthusiasm," Keitcha shook her head in amazement.

"That's one way of putting it," Kruq'nov laughed as he climbed to his feet. He did not bother adding that Keitcha would never see a male so young in the role as King. Under normal circumstances, Nrsah would have to wait until he was twice his current age to even have a chance at securing a Pride. Since the takeover, the cub has been living a dream. Each day, Kruq'nov had to wake the cub from his dreams so the two could roam M'krah and make their rounds.

As expected, Kruq'nov found Nrsah fast asleep. Instead of secure within one of the younger female's quarters, his younger brother lay reclined in a chair, his feet kicked up and resting on a small table. Kruq'nov found his situational awareness pathetic. Had any warrior lain so casual in the trenches, his NCO likely would have killed him outright, assuming Ape infiltrators did not beat him to the punch. The gnarled warrior could hardly harm his brother, at least not permanently. He told Keitcha more than once that he was content to let the cub have his fun.

Of course, enjoying life was no excuse for lounging around after the sun rose. With a sharp kick to the leg of the chair, Kruq'nov sent Nrsah crashing to the floor, crushing chair and overturning the table in the process. Nrsah hissed when his head slammed into the stone floor, knocking him into consciousness. One of the M'krah's Terran slaves rushed into the common room upon hearing the crash. He just as quickly made himself scarce when he saw the two Pride kings.

Rubbing the back of his head, Nrsah slowly rose to his feet. He stood as tall as Kruq'nov, though was not quite as broad at the shoulder or mane. If anyone back in the trenches ever told Kruq'nov that such a shaggy mane male would be King of a city's Pride, the older male would have called him a liar to his face. "Can't a male get any rest?"

"It's hardly my fault you spent your nights fooling around," Kruq'nov said in his authoritarian older brother voice. "The way you lounge about, other males might see our Pride as an easy conquest."

"They will be mistaken!" Nrsah declared with confidence of both youth and of a veteran. Though fewer scars marked his face, Nrsah knew more about tooth-and-claw combat than most. He still bore the scarring upon his hands where his youthful exuberance allowed his claws to extend from their sheaths and right through his environmental suit.

He might be learned of war, but Nrsah still left much to be desired when wisdom was concerned. "Let us make our rounds, brother. It is better for the other males to never get the idea of challenging us into their head in the first place."

Unlike back in the warzone, neither male minded patrolling M'krah. Unlike Repleetah, this city they now patrolled they also owned. Or rather the M'krah Pride owned, as Gherelith never tired of reminding them. Nrsah looked around the lavishly decorated common room. "I believe this room could use with a new rug, perhaps one made from the hide of a large prey beast."

Kruq'nov thought the room had more than enough rugs, both made from hides and plant fibers. The same could be said of the tapestries that hung upon the walls. They added much in the way of color—too much in the male's opinion—and a few of them he could not identify. He knew the shapes and pictures upon them, but had no idea what they were made from. Like with any Kilrathi home, paintings and tapestries of hunts and wars adorned the walls. Kruq'nov eyed the pictures of wars with rye amusement. The romanticized versions of war looked nothing like any battlefield he ever graced.

Hunting down the prey beast was something Kruq'nov agreed heartedly with. Taking down dangerous prey and parading down the streets with its carcass told the whole world that both kings were in their prime.

**Streets of M'krah**

The crowd parted before Kruq'nov and Nrsah as the two brothers marched down the street, the carcass of a buffalo filling the gap between them. As usual, Kruq'nov led the way. He took some pleasure in watching the crowd move aside. Many of the people upon the street dipped their heads in a slight bow. When he first saw this, shortly after taking over the Pride, the action puzzled him. He never saw his fellow Kilrathi act in such a manner, at least not to him. The looks on their faces, their postures—it took a few days for the veteran to realize they were signs of respect.

As a common Kilrathi, Kruq'nov was never privy to such treatment while with his birth Pride or as a rogue youth. He certainly never received any respect from the officers appointed over him in the army. The replacements were another matter. Those that lived through their first few days looked up to their NCOs in both awe and fear. To see an entire city showing respect was a shock, something Kruq'nov never dreamed possible.

Kruq'nov wondered if it was as much fear as respect. He and his brother did kill the distant relations to high-borns in the arena. Two common males managed to dislodge their social betters and take their place. Climbing from one's station in life was rare amongst his kind, and an accomplishment in itself. In the back of his mind, he knew it might give would-be kings ideas of their own, like challenging Kruq'nov and Nrsah for control of the M'krah Pride. He eyed the males in the crowd, checking for any challenge in their eyes.

Today, as with all other days, he saw no desire to kill in the eyes of any passing males. They all dipped their heads to the two kings as they cleared out of their way. When they took over the Pride, Nrsah questioned Kruq'nov decision to continuing hunting. After all, what was the point in taking over a Pride if they did not let the females deal with such things? Kruq'nov explained to him that it was not the food, but the kill itself that was important. All of M'krah's populace should know the brothers were still able to take down dangerous game. As such, they only hunted prey that could fight back, killed them with only what weapons nature provided Kilrathi and took their carcasses as trophies.

The sight of two males hauling a carcass on their shoulders that was larger than their combined mass and had horns that could gore made challenging them seem a reckless course of action. The scars on his face proved to the world he survived far more than hunts. The few veterans out on the streets on fine, sunny day ever saw combat as vicious as the trenches of Repleetah. There was nowhere in the Empire that did not know the name, despite Imperial media insisting there was no battle in that system.

Kruq'nov growled whenever he thought about Imperial propaganda. Nobody on Ghorah Khar believed a word of it. This close to Repleetah, the battle took on near mythical status. Few who were sent to that world returned. Did any of his comrades still survive on that planet? Had Kruq'nov and Nrsah not deserted, their bones would likely now be littering the dying world. So close to the front, Kruq'nov wondered when war would visit his new home.

All thoughts of a dismal future were brushed aside when the brother reached their destination. Kruq'nov pushed through the doors of the tannery and was greeted by the stench of dead meat and chemical baths. Shar'eik the Tanner, a male with no Pride, looked up to see who dared enter his shop. Upon seeing Kruq'nov, the tanner dipped his head. "Greetings, Lord Kruq'nov, how can I serve today?"

Kruq'nov always smiled at the honorific. The M'krah Pride did rule the city and its surrounding countryside with many smaller Prides their vassals, so technically Kruq'nov was a lord. "We bring work for you," he said, struggling to fit the buffalo carcass through the doorway. Nrsah could be heard outside cursing the doorway, the buffalo and snapping at another Kilrathi who apparently stared at him for too long.

Shar'eik eyed the specimen approvingly. "A mighty kill, lord."

Kruq'nov ignored praises and platitudes. "I want the hide and horns delivered to my estate. I offer the usual pay of one eighth of the meat."

"A generous offer, lord. It shall be done." Kruq'nov's offer was generous indeed. One eighth of a buffalo would feed the tanner for days. Some thought he was too generous, but the truth be told, Kruq'nov did not even need the meat. As he explained to his younger brother, they were not hunting for food but to prove a point to the world.

"Yes, it shall—as soon as somebody pushes it through the doorway!" Kruq'nov hissed through the blocked entry. Nrsah replied with hisses of his own. The buffalo was stuck fast and would not be moving anytime soon. Kruq'nov joined in Nrsah's cursing of the door.

Shar'eik moved from behind the counter and approached the carcass with a knife in hand. "Allow me to aid you."

Kruq'nov's attention instantly whirled on the approaching male wielding a blade. Battlefield instincts threatened to take over, as the drive to kill raged within Kruq'nov. He eyed the butcher's knife with deep mistrust. Only when he was convinced he could ripe out the tanner's throat before the knife could mortally wound him did he relax. So great was his tension, he failed to notice his claws extending from their sheaths and biting deep into the buffalo's hide.

"I shall have to butcher the carcass right here," Shar'eik muttered apologetically. "I saw do my best to preserve the hide. If my lordship pleases, the backdoor will be a much easier exit for the time being."

"Very well. I shall hold you to your word concerning the hide," Kruq'nov might be generous, but that did not mean he would tolerate any transgression. It was a holdover from his time as Second Claw. He tolerated no slacking from those he commanded. He headed for the back, calling to his brother. "Brother, stop making a fool of yourself and meet me at the saloon." The hunt might be over, but his patrol still had the better part of day ahead of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**M'krah Manor**

Only after the brothers filled their plates with their share of dinner did the Pride females partake in the meal. As with every night, Nrsah commented that it was better than trench rat. Kruq'nov could hardly argue. Life as a Pride king was certainly the life. He and his brother relaxed at the head of the dining hall, a plate of roast meats in one hand and a goblet of locally brew palm wine. Sukhar Pa'myra was one of the finer products of Ghorah Khar, and the only alcohol the Pride would serve. When Kruq'nov broached the subject of rum—the only proper use found for any species of grass in his opinion—Gherelith glared at him fiercely enough that the veteran dropped the subject. There was no changing these females.

"To the good life," Nrsah said, raising his goblet to his elder brother.

Kruq'nov could hardly argue with the toast either. "The good life." The goblets struck like the ringing of bells. Silver cups were also absent from the trenches. Drinking implements of any kind were uncommon. Kruq'nov recalled times he lapped water from small pools on the bunker walls. And the fleas—even after more than Kahrik out of the trenches, he still itched. A codex spoke of honoring the heroic dead for their deeds are worthy of remembrance, but Kruq'nov saw nothing heroic about falling in no-man's land, cut down by a stream of tungsten slugs. There will never be songs or poems praising the glory of trench warfare.

He raised his goblet again. "To comrades who never lived to see today." That was a statement to which Nrsah could drink. Only those who fought in the squalor and toxicity understood the plight of Repleetah. Since they left the planet, neither heard a single mention of it in Kilrathi news. The Imperial spin machines clearly did not like losses. At least the place was as big a loss to the Apes.

"I've heard word from Mercher this morning," Shelcha said in a hushed voice. Kruq'nov could see the resemblance between her and her sister Keitcha. Both were born in the same litter. Most Kilrathi were born in pairs, Kruq'nov being the exemption at the table. Many outside of the Pride said the sisters were identical, but he knew better than any that was not true.

"Do not keep the word to yourself," Ghenkril commanded. She was sister to the Matriarch and mother of Shelcha, Keitcha and many others over the Shrik.

The other females listened intently to their sister. Nrsah paid little attention; after all such gossip was female dominion. Kruq'nov had both age and wisdom over his brother, and kept an ear open. "The Imperial Pride has landed more soldiers in the city," Shelcha's words instantly peaked Kruq'nov's attention.

"How many?" he asked, alerted by any Imperial presence. Ghorah Khar was a frontier world, closer to the Apes than any of the Eight Prides. Any increase in soldiers was cause for alarm. Was the war coming here, or did the Kilrah Pride just want to take over this world too?

Most of the Pride females shot Kruq'nov disapproving looks. At dinner, Kings were supposed to be seen, not heard. Of course, they all knew this King was an unusual sort of male. They puzzled over his sparing of their male cubs, though they were just as pleased not to see their children killed. Kruq'nov saw no reason to kill the cubs. After all, the Apes were already doing a superb job at wiping out future generations and there was no way Kruq'nov would aid their cause.

"At least eighty," Shelcha tried to recall the details. "Just infantry. Kilrah officials claim they are in Mercher to protect it."

_Of course they were_, Kruq'nov knew better than to believe anything a Kilrah said. Even though Mercher was on the far side of the continent, the arrival of soldiers worried the veteran. "Any idea of the truth?"

Gherelith hissed at his cynicism. Not all Kilrathi were so hostile towards authority, though the Matriarch was wise enough not to take authority's word as gospel. "They are telling most of the truth this time," the Matriarch explained. Kruq'nov never liked her explanations; it was too much like a scholar talking down to a dim pupil. "They want the mines safe."

"That's right," Shelcha agreed. "I also heard the Kilrah are conscripting more laborers for the mines."

"Why?" Kruq'nov wondered why off-worlders would care about mines. If minerals were required for the war effort, all the Imperial Pride or the Eight needed to do was round up a couple of asteroids and dismantle them. Nobody mines planets unless it is for local use. Or the mineral is exceedingly rare and precious.

This time Gherelith did not speak down to the King. "That is a good question. The Kilrah started the mines near Mercher two Shrik ago, and have been expanding them ever since. They are keeping it a secret, so much so that we aren't even supposed to know about it." The M'krah had friends among the Mercher as well as the Shrekhar, even if they have close ties to nobility. Of the three powerful Prides on Ghorah Khar, the Shrekhar were most dangerous. They had ambition to become the Ghorah Khar Pride, rulers of the whole planet.

"If you have spies, it would be a good idea to employ them," Kruq'nov might not be commissioned, but many Kahrik as a non-commissioned officer locked his mind into a war setting. If war was coming, he needed information.

"Kruq'nov, we're not an army," Keitcha reached out and rested a hand upon his forearm. She sat at the end of the table close to the Kings, across from the Matriarch. Nominally, the spot was reserved for an elder female, like Keitcha's mother. However, since she proved most effective in reigning in the male, the rest of the Pride thought it wise she always is near him at social gatherings. If for no other reason than to muzzle him.

"You don't need to be one," he told her. "I just want to know what the Kilrah are up to. Just them increasing their presence on Ghorah Khar will be trouble for us all. Just wait and see."

**Alleys of M'krah**

Kruq'nov stepped over the body of a slave—which species he could not tell. By the coloration he would guess Varni. It was odd to find any of their kind in this sector. Just how many jumps was it to their homeworld? Kruq'nov had no idea nor did he care. The dead amphibian obviously displeased someone. Its throat was missing, as were other pieces of its flesh. Small scavengers fled at the sight of an approaching Kilrathi. Kruq'nov paid them as little attention as possible. At least they were not rats. For some reason or another those vermin appeared on every world the Apes colonized.

The alley was dark and growing dimmer as the sun set. His business must be concluded soon or he will be missed at home. Was there any Pride female he must service before retiring for the night? No, not this night. He certainly would not take the chance then. Gherelith insisted what happened between the three large Prides of Ghorah Khar was female business. Kruq'nov disagreed strongly with her sentiment. As King, his duties included defending the Pride. When the Kilrah Pride moves into any new world their first target are often the largest Prides. They either subjugate them as vassals or one scion or another tries to take it over. In either case, the veteran decided that fell into his prerogative.

Over the past few days Kruq'nov reached out to various contacts he made as Pride King. Most of them were barkeeps or store owners. To the elite of the Empire, such people were viewed as beneath the notice of proper intelligence gathering. Perhaps that was why the Empire had yet to defeat the Apes after nearly eight Shrik of warring. These lowly people were in the proper place to gather information. Warriors spoke amongst each other while ignoring the shop owner, and they spoke way too much when full of alcohol and in earshot of a barkeep.

Unfortunately neither source could offer Kruq'nov useful information. They knew about mines near Mercher and that soldiers protected them. Beyond that—it was the tightest secret on the planet. Kruq'nov switched to less conventional sources of information. Waiting for him in the shadows of the alley was Khrath. Like Kruq'nov he was a deserter. Unlike Kruq'nov, Khrath was a former officer and commissar. What a Ki'ra managed to do to end up a lowly detective was beyond Kruq'nov. Perhaps he as best not knowing. Normally he would want nothing to do with any scion of the Eight, but the Ki'ra were quite vocal about their opinions of the war; mainly the total lack of progress with the Kilrah Pride in charge.

Kruq'nov did not trust the cloaked ex-commissar, but he knew Khrath would not betray him. After all the Army would be far more interested in punishing a deserter of his rank than a common Second Claw. Little was visible beneath his hood. Kruq'nov saw Khrath's snout sticking from the darkness of the hood. His teeth were sharp and whiter than any soldier's teeth had business being. Clearly he never ate rat.

"What have you found out?" Kruq'nov asked without preamble.

Khrath eyed him from the shadows of his hood. "No disguise? Are you not worried about being spotted?"

Kruq'nov bared his teeth in indignation. "This is my city, I go where I please." And he did. Though he was careful about his current venture he did not bother looking over his shoulder. No females were out and the males had too much respect for Kruq'nov to talk behind his back. Or at least they had sense enough to pretend they never saw him.

"If I had control of the M'krah Pride I wouldn't be outside of their walls at night," he said with a leer.

Kruq'nov hissed at the implied challenge. "You have not answered my question."

"Could you be more specific? I have learned much in my voyage to Mercher," as with any Ki'ra, Khrath would not get straight to the point. Was there some genetic defect that prevented it? His arm was stretched and his hand open.

To expedite the process, Kruq'nov drew forth a pouch of gold coins and dropped them in Khrath's outstretched hand. Much commerce off-world took place electronically, and the system proved far more convenient than carrying coins or products to barter. However, any transaction using computers could be traced; coins were a little more difficult and they spent just as easy on this colonial world.

"The mines," Kruq'nov insisted. "What are in them?"

"Miners, equipment, guards," Khrath rattled off a list of what was in the mines. The absence of slaves spoke volumes on how serious the Kilrah took security. "As for what comes out: crystals."

"That's it? Just crystals?" The sudden urge to slash this Ki'ra's throat burned within Kruq'nov. He fought back his rage. No, it would do him little good to kill such a useful source of information, even if he enjoys being difficult.

Khrath's expression darkened. "That's all I could discover with betraying my presence and learning that much was difficult. These crystals are rare and extremely expensive to synthetically produce. It would appear Ghorah Khar is one of the few places in the known universe where they can be mined in sufficient quantities."

Kruq'nov shook his head in bemusement. "They came all this way for jewelry?"

Khrath laughed. "The Kilrah Pride might be vain that way but I doubt that it mine's purpose. With that much security it has to be for the war effort. Beyond that—ask a physicist or chemist. Science is not my trade."

Kruq'nov stepped back from Khrath. He might not look over his shoulder coming into the alley but he was not about to turn his back on the Ki'ra. Industrial gems—weapons' quality crystals. What was their purpose? Would they make grasers more powerful? Shields stronger? No matter their purpose the fact that the mines were vital to the war effort was bad news indeed. Sooner or later the Apes would notice them and come. Even if they did not, the Kilrah Pride would continue their encroachment on his new world. Was it really too much to ask for a male to settle down with a nice Pride away from galactic politics? Apparently so—

**M'krah Manor**

"This is an outrage!" Kruq'nov roared as he paced about the common room. He felt the pent up energy beneath his muscles. He wanted to fight, to rip his enemy to pieces. For one of the few times since taking over the M'krah Pride he wished one of their Ape slaves would enter. At least he could bite them.

"And what do you propose we do about it?" Gherelith watched the King trace and retrace his steps. She knew what he wanted to do about it. He wanted to fight. That would accomplish little. Not even a veteran of Repleetah could ward of an Imperial legion.

Kruq'nov could say nothing. What could they do about it? This time the Kilrah Pride brought down an entire octave of soldiers to garrison Mercher and the mines. More soldiers would follow, Kruq'nov was certain. The Kilrah have done more than deliver soldiers; they also have extensive fortifications around Mercher, eights of surface-to-space batteries and were expanding the space port to accommodate larger ships. All those soldiers meant a sharp curtailing of the settlers' liberties. Already internal passports were being issued in Mercher and checkpoints erected to divide the city.

The other elder Pride females waited for Kruq'nov to speak. When he remained silent they looked at each other in concern. "Please don't tell you plan to take matters into your own hands," Ghenkril, sister of the Matriarch, pleaded.

Kruq'nov stopped his march and hissed at her. Before he could snap a response, the matriarch spoke. "I tolerate your spy network but I will not stand for any violence." When Kruq'nov snapped his gaze towards her, Gherelith smiled. "I wouldn't be a very good Matriarch if I didn't know what transpired in my own city."

Kruq'nov could not honestly say he was surprised. Anyone who claimed the title of Matriarch and held it was no fool. "They won't stop with Mercher. Mark my words, if left unchallenged the Kilrah will take the whole planet. And don't preach to me about overstepping my bounds. Defending this Pride is my duty, and I will fulfill it."

"He's right, my sister," Ghenkril said with a sigh. Defending the Pride was one of the two duties a King _must_ perform.

Gherelith flashed her teeth in annoyance. "I know that, but there is a difference between defense and offense."

"There is also the matter of the Terrans," Keitcha spoke for the first time since the elders gathered. She was far from old, but like her twin Shelcha, she was mature enough to be counted amongst the elders. Most of the Pride females were younger than her, and all of them born on Ghorah Khar. "With the Kilrah expanding their presence sooner or later the Terrans will come see what they are up to. I don't think they'll bother differentiating between us and the Kilrah."

Gherelith eyed Keitcha with suspicion. She had grown close to Kruq'nov and the Matriarch took her niece's defense of the King with a pinch of salt. She always hoped her Pride would avoid the war. That was why she and her sister moved to this planet. It was the frontier, with nothing of value save wide open spaces and plentiful game. While the system had many jump points, the Terrans were in the habit of bypassing Prides that offered no resistance. The M'krah Pride was such a Pride. What would Gherelith do if they did come? She had no love of the Empire but that did not mean she wanted to seek refuge among a bunch of apes.

"Again, what can we do about it?" Gherelith sought her own answer even as she asked. Even if she could ally her Pride with the other two large ones on the planet, what could they do against the Imperial Pride, a Pride that numbered in the millions? She wondered what the Mercher Pride was doing right now. Could they do anything with the Kilrah watching them so close? Fehkra nar Mercher was a friend of Gherelith, one she had no heard from in recent days. And what was the Shrekhar Pride up to? Their Kings were scions of nobility; did they plan on gaining from an increased Imperial presence?

"What indeed," Kruq'nov knew there was little he could do, and that was the most infuriating aspect of all. Right now he would hold his peace, and bide his time. Sooner or later an answer will appear.

Kruq'nov clutched at the guard rails and glared out over at the city. He fumed over his seclusion from talks between his Pride and representatives of the Mercher Pride. The Matriarch, in her infinite wisdom, decided that any male presence would only serve to inflame discussions. Kruq'nov granted that Gherelith was wise in many subjects—save keeping Apes in the house—but she also defended her prerogative as fiercely as he. How was he expected to defend the Pride if he did not know the situation? The Mercher Pride was under the ever-vigilant gaze of the Kilrah Pride.

The phrase brought a smile to Kruq'nov' face. Ever-vigilant indeed. If they knew everything, how come they could not defeat an enemy their propaganda claims is nothing more than a prey beast? It could be worse. Instead of the Imperial Pride, the Emperor could have handed operations over to the Ki'ra Pride. They ran the Commission as if it was their own private fief, and their commissars were almost as underhanded as the Apes. If they were running Mercher then he would have absolutely forbade them entry in M'krah. They were so good at brain washing that their agents could be anywhere and nobody would know the agent included. Scions of that Pride could never be trusted, not even the ones he bought.

"Enjoying the view?" Nrsah walked up alongside his brother and stared out at the city. If anyone had told Nrsah that he would be master of a city at his young age he would have laughed him off the planet.

"Enjoy isn't the right word," Kruq'nov growled.

Nrsah hissed in disagreement. He thought the view was rather pleasant. The city might be large for Ghorah Khar, but it was small by the standards of his own birth planet. Actually, they were small by the standards of most planets in the Empire. Few structures rose more than two stories, and he was standing on the balcony of one of them. "Forced to endure?"

Kruq'nov grumbled a few words beneath his breath. "The Pride's future is being discussed behind closed doors and I am out here. Yes, forced to endure is a good choice of words."

"Let the females worry about it; that's their responsibility after all," Nrsah took far less interest in the planet's politics as his older brother.

Kruq'nov stared at Nrsah wryly. "Our responsibility includes more than siring the next generation."

"It does?" Nrsah roared in laughter. "Relax, brother. When the time comes to fight, I will be ready. That doesn't mean I can't enjoy my other duties."

Kruq'nov joined in his laughter. "Brother, what you do goes beyond the call of duty. If you took to war with as much vigor, the Emperor would have to pin a medal on you." Kruq'nov could hardly fault Nrsah's enthusiasm; a male of his age as a Pride King was virtually unheard of.

Their laughter came to a sudden halt at the presence of a slave. Kruq'nov's eyes narrowed and his teeth flashed. The diminutive Ape shook as she approached the Kings. "Forgive me, great lord, but the honored Matriarch sends summons." Her voice was weak and heavily accented, but understandable. The Matriarch should have sent Terran parrots as messenger; at least they spoke Kilrathi languages clearer.

Kruq'nov snarled at the slave, he fled in terror as soon as the message was received. He would swear the Matriarch sent Terran slaves to him just to remind him of who was really in charge of the Pride. "Keep watch, Brother."

"Not even a glow worm will escape by attention," Nrsah said as Kruq'nov returned to the indoors.

The older Pride females gathered in the common room along with two, unfamiliar females. They sounded, smelt and even felt wrong, but Kruq'nov did not need those senses to tell him they did not belong. The females of the M'krah Pride all were born with fair hair of the lightest gold. The other two were the same brown that dominated Kilrathi genes. One of the two Mercher females eyed Kruq'nov disapprovingly. "Honored Matriarch, why is this male here?"

Before the Matriarch could answer, Kruq'nov gave his own explanation. "Because defending this Pride is my duty and I will defend it from all threats."

The two Mercher females hissed at Kruq'nov, as did the Matriarch. "Kruq'nov, please speak only when spoken to," Gherelith chastised him before answering the Mercher. "Sankra, the Kilrah presence on our world is a threat to both of our Prides, and our King speaks truly. If it comes to open war between our Prides and the Shrekhar Pride, then he will fulfill his duty." She expected he might even use a war as a chance to grab more power. She was naturally suspicious of any male that took too much interest in politics.

Sankra reached to the table a picked up her cup of jirak. Sipping the tea, she said "If isn't the right word."

Kruq'nov's ears shot up in alarm. Before he could speak out of turn, the Matriarch explained. "Sankra comes from Mercher with news. The Kilrah Pride has turned over governorship of Ghorah Khar to the Shrekhar Pride. They rule as viceroys with the Kilrah's blessing."

"And the soldiers?" Kruq'nov asked.

Gherelith gestured for Sankra to explain. She eyed Kruq'nov, uncomfortable around the strange male. Scaring on his face spoke of his prowess and reliance, which did little to settle her. A male like him was the sort that could challenge her own Kings and take control of the Mercher Pride. "They remain, though my understanding is their orders are to defend the mines and other Imperial installations. The Shrekhar are given free reign with everything else. They are trying to raise their own militia and already their spies are infiltrating cities across the planet."

Kruq'nov made a mental note about sending his own spy to investigate. "What of their militia?"

Sankra paused. "Military matters are not my expertise. Our own Kings tell us they are amateurs."

Kruq'nov made another note to start raising his own army. "What of their weapons?"

"Rifles," the Mercher said.

Kruq'nov scowled at her unhelpful words. "Kruq'nov, none of us know anything of the art and science of war. That's why I summoned you," Gherelith checked his advance. "With the Shrekhar raising an army I am doubtful of any peaceful solution between our Prides. When war comes to M'krah, we need to be ready."


	3. Chapter 3

**Ghorah Khar 2664-C**

**M'krah Manor**

Kruq'nov stood again on the balcony, overlooking his city. It was quite bustling today; Kilrathi and slaves alike running various errands. He scowled each time he picked out the thin, tall form of a Terran. No matter how often he snarled and growled, the Matriarch slapped down his complaints. She also barred him from aiding in rallying the Prides. She voiced her—concerns over his diplomatic ability. He had to admit Gherelith had a point there. Kruq'nov was a warrior not a talker. Leading the war would be no problem for him; leading the peace—that was best left to the females.

Of all the aspects of the alliance with the Mercher, the Mercher Kings bothered him the most. There were two of them, and like Kruq'nov and Nrsah both were veterans. Unlike them, they were high-and-mighty officers. The oldest of them, Knarthi was commander of a squadron. Kruq'nov wondered how a pair of fighter pilots managed to land themselves on Ghorah Khar. Nrsah suggested it was the same way they had; simply up and left.

If they managed to desert the space force, then they were truly stealthy warriors. The only reason Kruq'nov got away with desertion was because the infallible Emperor, may Sivar use him as a scratching post, effectively abandoned all the warriors on that dead world. The records of those dead would lay forever unknown. There was nothing like being discarded like a broken tool to scare a warrior's pride.

Kruq'nov's ears shot up at the sound of padded feet and claws upon the floor. "How goes the rallying?"

"Slow and painful." It was an answer he would expect from Nrsah, not one of the Pride females.

Kruq'nov looked over his shoulder and purred in delight as Keitcha walked up towards the railing. "Surely the vassals would listen to one with your charm."

Keitcha purred back. "Not all of our race holds me in such high esteem. You should be careful, Kruq'nov, before you elevate me beyond your own reach."

Kruq'nov stroked his mane thoughtfully. "A tough choice; to keep you or grant you the honors deserving of such a magnificent female."

Keitcha marveled at the warrior-turned-poet. No other male showed such consideration towards her or any of her Pride. Other Kings looked upon her only as a means of propagation. He treated her sisters, aunts and cousins with similar respect, but his favoritism was obvious to all. "To answer your question, rallying our vassals isn't as easy as you might think. They might own us homage, but they are not warriors to be commanded. We must tread carefully, for we known not which Prides are fully loyal to us and which would turn on us to gain favor with the Shrekhar."

The more Kruq'nov heard of politics the more it sounded like fighting the Apes. Nothing was simple or direct, and everything was laden with traps. That was not even the worst part. "You know what I dislike most of this? The waiting. I know I must be patient, but I also know the longer we wait the stronger our enemy's position grows. Ever since the Kilrah landed I have heard nothing but bad news. Good news would be a nice change of pace."

"Then I shall grant your wish," she said as she nuzzled against his man. "I shall bear your children within a Kahrik. Tests say there will be one male and one female. You shouldn't look so surprised."

Kruq'nov returned her nuzzle. "I'm surprised it took this long." With two of Keitcha's cousins already carrying his offspring, Kruq'nov was starting to wonder if there was something wrong with him. It could not be the females, for Nrsah had no problem with the younger females. "Indeed, that is excellent news." It was gave him one more reason to tread with caution and patience.

Kruq'nov eyed the saloon full of Kings and rogue males with suspicion. He gathered those males in M'krah that he could trust. Or at least trust as far as he could any male that was neither brother nor son. Nrsah stood to his left, eyeing the crowd of males with equal suspicion. Of all the Kings in the room, he was by far the youngest. His scruffy excuse for a mane put to shame by those of the older males. A few of them eyed Nrsah with a mixture of respect and envy. They had respect for both of the M'krah Kings for their combat on Repleetah and for them toppling the unpopular former Kings. Envy because they all remembered what it was like to that age, and to have no prospect of claiming a Pride of their own.

The rogue males, those males without Prides, eyed all of the Kings with deep scrutiny. Kruq'nov had no doubt that the rogues with full manes were searching for weaknesses. The last thing his Pride wanted was in fighting inside the city. Kruq'nov did not want to tell them to hold off on their own ambitions until the crisis was over. That was the sort of thing a noble would do; only when they said it, the crisis never ended. Instead, he reminded the rogues that when the battle was over and many of the enemy dead, there would be Kingless Prides in the Shrekhar camp waiting to be claimed.

There were other males in the city that would join the fight, but neither of the brothers trusted them. The Shrekhar placed spies everywhere, and an unfamiliar face was a danger. Kruq'nov knew all of these males. He shared drinks with plenty of them, regaling them with stories of war. Most of them walked away disappointed. They expected the eternal battle upon Repleetah II to be one of endless glory, not endless sitting in trenches and killing vermin.

"If we can have some silence!" Kruq'nov roared over the chatter. Gradually the conversations died down and all eyes were upon him. If he ever reacted that slowly to an officer, Kruq'nov would have had the whole roof brought down on his head. How on Kilrah was he supposed to maintain order and discipline? "We all know why we're here. The Shrekhar are building their own army, and the M'krah needs one too."

The males muttered briefly, mostly in agreement. A few of the rogue would not mind seeing Kruq'nov and Nrsah fall. Respected or not, their position was a coveted one. One of the rogues, a male by the name of Kra'nor stood. "So, what's with all the talk? If the Shrekhar and their vassals come, we'll fight." Most of the males loudly agreed. Kra'nor served in one of the army's raider battalions. The only fighting he ever saw was in the form of raids.

"That's been the attitude of the nobles for more than seven Shrik, and we're still at war with the bloody Apes." It was not a whole truth, but the sentiment sunk in with the crowd. Anyone who served in the army knew that the Empire imposed draconic discipline upon its warriors. It was the only means to keep order. Because of that necessity, the Eight and the Kilrah were widely hated. Was Kruq'nov headed down the same path? He would have to be ruthless to forge an army—doubly so if any warriors were in it against their will.

"Kruq'nov speaks the truth," Raglar nar Merusk snapped at Kra'nor. He was another army veteran, one who did fought extensively in the Enigma Sector. "If we attack in piece-meal, we lose."

"And what are we supposed to do?" Kra'nor wondered. "Submit our wills to the M'krah Pride, like they were nobility?"

Kruq'nov flashed his teeth in annoyance. He heard Nrsah hissed his own response. He glanced over at his younger brother, warning him not to act recklessly. "The Shrekhar are trying to repress the city of Mercher. Sooner or later, they will try the same with our city. I don't know about the rest of you, but I came to Ghorah Khar to get away from tyranny."

"With all due respect Lord Kruq'nov, how is what the M'krah are doing any different?" asked Shar'eik the Tanner. The males gathered in Kruq'nov favorite saloon were a mix of battle-hardened veterans, low combat experience and civilians.

"Because no one will be forced to serve." Kruq'nov looked out into the crowd, making eye contact with every male as he spoke. "Any of you who do not wish to follow the M'krah Pride may leave now. I will not force you into servitude. If you wish to preserve the freedom that living on the frontier allows, then fight." Kruq'nov paused and waited. None of the assembled males made any attempt to leave. "What I ask now, is that you find other males who want to fight for their freedom and recruit them to our cause."

"That sounds like rebellion," one of the male hissed. Kruq'nov could not catch which one.

"Perhaps it is," Raglar agreed. "But with the Empire already locked in war with the Apes, how much could they spare to attack us?"

Kruq'nov kept silent. They knew nothing of the crystals. At most, the assembled males knew the Kilrah took a vested interest in some land over in Mercher territory. Those crystals were the closest kept secret Kruq'nov ever encountered. Just knowing what was mined made him an expert. He only regretted not knowing what they were for. How would these males react when they learned he kept the secret? He hoped they would be understanding, but understanding was not a strong trait in Kilrathi warriors.

"He's still here," Nrsah hissed as he scanned the warehouse. "I can smell him."

Kruq'nov stepped forwards from the shadows and stomped into the crowded warehouse. The place was poorly organized, with crates stacked without order and pallets placed in whatever location was free at the time. It was an excellent place to hide, if one happened to be a species that depended primarily on sight. There were plenty of places to hide. It clearly never crossed the Ape's mind that Kilrathi navigate by more than site. Had the Ape chosen a warehouse full of food, then perhaps he would stand a chance. Inside a warehouse full of industrial equipment he was as good as cornered.

Kruq'nov had to admit the genius behind the Shrekhar move. None of the Pride females ever would have thought of using a slave as a spy. Was this Ape a volunteer, or had the Shrekhar managed to program him to be a spy? Kruq'nov had no way of knowing. His own source, a disgraced Ki'ra, either did not know or was not telling. Seeing how his birth Pride and its Commission were master spies, it was hardly surprising if Khrath kept silent.

The Shrekhar might even have succeeded in learning of M'krah aims had the spy not made himself too obvious. Most Kilrathi had difficulty telling one Ape from another. Sure, there were obvious differences between entire sub-divisions of the species, usually in the form of various coloration, but their faces were all the same. Kruq'nov might have missed the spy had his brother not asked him if that Ape looked familiar. The spy had trailed them for two days, learning their secrets. He might even have listened in on the rally in the saloon.

In the past several days, males of the city dispatched several informants. The drying up of the river of knowledge would not remain unnoticed for long. Sooner or later, the new governors of Ghorah Khar are going to wonder what happened. If they were not already suspicious of the M'krah, then they were fools. After what the Shrekhar are trying to do to the Mercher became public knowledge, how could the third large Pride on Ghorah Khar do nothing?

Kruq'nov exchanged a glance with Nrsah. With a gesture of his hand, he ordered him to split off in the opposite direction. The warehouse had only a limited number of exits, all of which were guarded by males known to be loyal. Kruq'nov gave them instruction to kill any Ape that left the building and to detain any Kilrathi. It was possible the spy would pass on his information here. If so, then killing him would do little good aside from sate Kruq'nov frustration.

After passing two cluttered rows of pallets, Kruq'nov paused. His ear perked up as the distinct clomp of shoes on concrete echoed through the warehouse. The Ape was trying to be quiet, but his best was a joke. This slave obvious was never a soldier. A veteran Terran soldier could easily hide in this warehouse. If Kruq'nov thought the spy was a former soldier, he might have ordered the warehouse torched. One skilled Ape could claim the lives of many Kilrathi.

Aeon old hunting instincts overtook Kruq'nov. He crouched down on all fours and began to slink through the warehouse like his prehistoric ancestors would slide through the long grasses of Kilrah. Many times on Repleetah, Kruq'nov watched as new recruits charged over the top and ran across no-man's land on all fours. Each time the rookies stumbled into the same trap. It was a charge that worked well against unarmed prey. Kruq'nov hoped the slave was unarmed. The Shrekhar are many things, but they have not proven to be stupid. Only a fool would give a gun to an animal.

Using scent and sound, Kruq'nov stalked his prey. The Ape was afraid. The smell of terror in their species was not as familiar as he would like. Armed Terran soldiers were seldom terrified. Only when death came upon them without warning could Kruq'nov smell their fear. The spy's reaction puzzled Kruq'nov. Were they like this naturally? He never faced an Ape civilian before and their soldiers did not show fear. At least not the kind that would claim one's sanity. If any soldier did not feel the apprehension of the unknown while in combat, then they were not paying close enough attention.

Kruq'nov poked his head around a corner and spotted the spy on one of the shelves. Just like an ape, the Ape was trying to reach higher ground. Perhaps he thought he could hide. No, his fate was sealed the moment he opened the warehouse door. Kruq'nov wasted no time in finishing him. He charged forward at full speed and threw himself in the air. The Ape had just enough time to turn his head to see a flash of hair and claws before he died. Kilrathi and Terran crashed to the ground. Kruq'nov pushed himself upright and looked down at the dead slave. With a flick of his wrist, he ripped the slave's throat out.

"Did you find him?" Nrsah's voice filled his ear.

Kruq'nov pushed the transmit button on his headset. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"I don't know," Nrsah replied casually. "Perhaps the blood-curling scream that was abruptly cut off."

"I got him," Kruq'nov admitted. He growled as he looked down at the dead slave. Clutched in his cold, dead hand was a small optronic device. "It appears he has a radio." Was he carrying that the whole time, or was it stashed in the warehouse? The latter would make sense; why else would he trap himself?

Nrsah snarled a string of curses that would have done his drill instructor proud. "Did he use it?"

Kruq'nov pried the device from his tiny hand. It was a simply device; the only obvious control was a single button. He assumed it was the transmit button. "No way of knowing."

"We better take it back home and have one of the females look it over," Nrsah suggested.

Kruq'nov bared his teeth at the suggestion. Great, and now the Matriarch is going to want to know what he was doing with it. She would not be pleased to learn of Kruq'nov's little purges. "Very well, but I don't think it'll matter. The Shrekhar will know their spies are dead soon enough." As soon as that happened, the Pride Kings would have their work cut out for them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ghorah Khar 2664-D**

Kruq'nov awaited Shrekhar reprisal patiently for several days. When it arrived, it came in a form unexpected. Instead of militia it came in the form of conscription. Along with Mercher, M'krah was to provide laborers for Imperial projects on the planet. The Shrekhar rounded up rogue males, sending them to distant Shrekhar factories or to the new station under construction in high orbit. Neither Kruq'nov nor Nrsah saw the logic in their plans. It was not until Gherelith explained that the Shrekhar saw the rogue males as the threat and hoped to disperse the troublemakers.

Kruq'nov saw the move as an opportunity. Instead of spreading thin their enemies, the Shrekhar managed to plant several in all of their key locations. Reaching the new station would be tricky but the factories were easily within reach. One of the males to elude Shrekhar press gangs contacted Kruq'nov. After their periodic hunt, the two Kings met this male in the butcher's shop. Saloons and other public places were no doubt bugged. Fortunately, the Shrekhar have already developed the same contempt for small business as any of the Eight.

Nrsah eyed the male, Vashar the merchant, with suspicion. Kruq'nov approved of his distrust. Vashar was far older than Nrsah and it showed in his fuller mane. He claimed to have no service in the Imperial army or navy, but a number of scars on his face spoke of other battles. Vashar called himself a merchant, but under Imperial law he was nothing more than a smuggler.

Before Vashar conducted any business, he waited until Shar'eik vanished into the bowels of his shop with a fallen antelope. "Is it wise to speak around him?"

Kruq'nov's eyes narrowed and his ear flattened. "The Tanner can be trusted to keep secrets. He has no more love for the Shrekhar than any of us." Kruq'nov would be far more worried about conducting business in earshot of an Ape. Despite his ranting, the Matriarch refused to expel her Terran slaves. The Pride trusted their servants, as much as anyone could trust a slave. Sure, they were trustworthy until their owners woke one morning with all their throats slit.

"The bombs are a simple enough affair," Vashar continued without any preamble. One of the advantages of dealing with other males was their dislike of speeches. "Small arms are going to be more problematic."

Kruq'nov hoped this was not going to be about more pay. "Explain."

Vashar's eyes darted about the shop as if he were expecting a listening device to suddenly appear. One in his line of work could never be too careful. "Kilrathi arms are not as tightly controlled here as in other sectors, but they are still in short supply. Now I have associates in the Epsilon System that can—"

"Apes?" Nrsah asked in surprise. He and Kruq'nov exchanges scandalized glances. The only dealings either ever had with the Apes off Ghorah Khar involved one side trying to kill the other.

Vashar snorted. "I am talking of frontier worlds, not of the Confederation. Their border worlds are no fonder of Terra than we are of Kilrah. Besides, how do you think saloons on Ghorah Khar get their Terran booze?"

That hit home more for Kruq'nov than his brother. The elder King had acquired a taste for rum. He always assumed the alcohol was a spoil of war. When he returned home he would have to ask Ghe—no, he better not ask the Matriarch. She would want to know why he asked. Keitcha would tell what she knew without so many questions.

"Rum is one thing," Nrsah said with a sidelong glance at his brother. "Rifles are another." Nrsah held out an open hand. "How exactly is a male of our race supposed to handle one of their dinky weapons?"

Vashar's expression told them very loudly that how was not his concern. "Perhaps you should take control of the Shrekhar arsenal first; then you can make as many plasma rifles to your specifications as you wish."

Kruq'nov held up a hand to silence his brother. "Let's just worry about armed the conscripted laborers first." He wondered what the Shrekhar would think if they discovered a cache of these weapons. Maybe they would think the Terran slaves planned to rise up. They certainly would not believe any self-respecting Kilrathi would wield an alien weapon. "How many can you have by the end of the Kahrik?"

"I have a seller lined up," Vashar explained. "He promises at least eighty octave rifles and an octave shoulder-launched missiles."

They would not down a space fighter, but those missiles could make short work of any low flying gunships. It really took the fun out of war when the other side had air superiority. "It's a start."

Once again, Kruq'nov and Nrsah found themselves in an uncomfortable situation thanks to politics. Negotiations between the M'krah and Mercher Prides brought the Pride females closer. He already heard talk of a union between the two Prides, and had to admit it would be a prudent move. If the two Prides pooled their resources then they could push the Shrekhar off the planet altogether. It was the makings of a planetary Pride. Protecting a single city was more took more than enough effort, but defending an entire planet would require help.

Help sat across from the table from the M'krah Kings. Kruq'nov eyed the two males with deep suspicion, which was in turn returned upon him and Nrsah. Nrsah felt a little more self-conscious. The two Kings of the Mercher both had full and lush manes. Nrsah took some comfort in knowing they were born to lesser Prides than his birth Pride. His mother and aunts and sisters by now were all biochemists. He knew nothing of their work for much of it was classified.

Knarthi nar Mercher and his younger brother Revahr were brothers by birth and battle. Knarthi serves as squadron commander on one of the Empire's carriers while Revahr flew on his wing. They killed many Apes during their time in the fleet. Knarthi's kill score of over two eights impressed most Kilrathi. Too bad for him Kruq'nov was not most Kilrathi. His eyes narrowed and ears flattened as he considered the well groomed male. Knarthi certainly never slept in a vermin-infested trench. The few scars tracing across his snout spoke of a few up-close battles, likely in the ship's mess.

Though they were allies, Kruq'nov refused to admit these males into his house. They met on neutral grounds, in the saloon frequented by the former Kings of the M'krah. Kruq'nov recalled fondly the day he and his brother stepped in to the pub and challenged the former Kings to Thrakrik, ritual combat for control of the Pride. He was not the only person eyeing the strangers with distrust. The few others frequenting the saloon did not take kindly to these newcomers. Kruq'nov hoped none of the other customers were spies. He would have preferred to meet in his favorite saloon, but like the manor, that was his territory.

After the two sets of Kings stared each other down for minutes, Nrsah grew bored with the contest of wills and spoke. "You know, I bet all our females are having a great time right now. They'll spend all night talking, and talking, and talking—"

Revahr snorted in laughter. "I know what you mean. If they aren't talking about the most trivial of things, then they are lecturing you about how to behave. It's like we've never lived inside a house before."

Kruq'nov shot the Mercher a reproachful stare. Gherelith lectured all the time and it grew tiresome. However, she was the Matriarch and it was her roll to lecture. No matter how often she and Kruq'nov clashed, he would never think to speak ill of her in public. Knarthi suffered similar experiences and smacked his brother upside the head. It was clear which male was the older brother, if only by a handful of minutes.

"Revahr, we did not come all this way and leave our territory unguarded to whine. We have business to attend," he turned his gaze towards Kruq'nov. "Now what forces do you have at our disposal?" Knarthi tried to impose his will over the M'krah Kings. The two of them were nothing more than enlisted ground warriors, and the former pilot assumed he had the right to command. He assumed wrong.

Kruq'nov bared his teeth in a savage grin. "You are a guest in _my_ city, and I would suggest you remember that. You have no right to march in and act like some high-born officer."

Knarthi growled in return. "I have commanded males in combat. All you did was relay the orders of the officers above you."

"And what do you know about fighting on the ground, pilot?" Kruq'nov pushed his chair back and shot to his feet. He leaned against the table and literally looked down at the former squadron commander.

Knarthi considered rising to meet the challenge, but he was keenly aware of the other eyes watching him. They were either Kings of minor vassals or rogue males; by rights he should not even acknowledge them. He could tell all of them were loyal to Kruq'nov and would back him in a fight. "Nothing. And what do you know about combat in space, which is where the Empire will attack us from?"

"The same as you know about ground combat," Kruq'nov hissed before retrieving his chair and returning to it. As he calmed himself, his supporters relaxed.

"We appear to be two experts on one subject but novices on the other," Knarthi admitted, abandoning any attempt to dominate this male. From what he heard of Kruq'nov, the male was a long time veteran of Repleetah. Just how he managed to leave the planet was unclear, and at the moment unimportant.

"Perhaps we should command the ground forces, while you command those in space," Nrsah suggested. It was a reasonable division of power with one slight flaw. They had no space forces.

It was a flaw Knarthi picked up immediately. "And what are we supposed to do in the meantime? Follow your command?"

Kruq'nov felt like biting something. They were supposed to be co-existing at the very least, not bickering. It might be easier to kill these two and take over their Pride as well, but as Knarthi pointed out, Kruq'nov knew nothing about space combat. "We'll just have to capture whatever the Shrekhar have, such as that station they are building above us."

"And their ships," Revahr suggested. "They have several of them."

"Cargo ships, what good are those in combat?" Kruq'nov sniffed.

"More good than you imagine," Knarthi shot back. "We can mount weapons on them and increase their shielding, graft larger engines to them."

"They'd be shot to pieces," Kruq'nov pointed out. He was no space force expert, but even he knew a warship could shred a cargo ship.

Knarthi and his brother laughed. "You'd think that, but no. The Apes uses the ugliest, most make-shift craft to fight us along their frontier. They are a creative foe, if nothing else."

Kruq'nov noted the respect in the other male's voice. Good; he would not dismiss the Apes so easily. Perhaps there was more to combat in space than he first thought. He also thought about his dealings with the smuggler. Many weapons that would be coming to Ghorah Khar would be Terran made. He exchanged a glance with Nrsah, trying to see what his brother thought. Nrsah dipped his head in agreement.

"Very well," Kruq'nov said. "You can build your fleet, but I want my males on those ships." He might agree that Knarthi had superior knowledge of space but that was by no means a guarantee of trust. Whoever commanded orbit had a distinct advantage.

Knarthi scowled at Kruq'nov. "As long as my males are placed in the militia, then we are in agreement."

"Agreed," Kruq'nov would have lost respect for the male if he was not equally mistrusting. "Now let's drink to our mutual distrust."

Knarthi let out a low rumbling chuckle. He lifted his glass of local palm wine in salute.

Kruq'nov woke with a start at the first explosion. Many Kahrik in the trenches conditioned his body to dive for cover before his mind was fully aware of what was going on. For a second, he thought he had returned to the trenches of the now dead Repleetah. Only after the initial fog of sleep wore off did he realize he was indeed awake. There was little difference between the realm of the waking and of sleep. Only seconds before he dreamt of the endless barrages preceding a Terran push.

A second explosion brought his mind into focus. Kruq'nov lifted his head from the floor of the common room to survey his surroundings. He must have fallen asleep on one of the couches. His veteran ears told him both explosions were less than an octomaks distance. A third explosion rang closer; this one was in the air. Something exploded in flight, but what? He crawled towards the nearest window and peered out into the night. Eights of traces lines illuminated the night sky as people on the ground opened up on an airborne enemy.

He spotted a flare from a missile leaving its launcher. The shoulder-launched missiles, though small for a Kilrathi, proved to be lethally effective. The contrail connected with a target in the sky, resulting in a fourth explosion. His eyes spotted several gunships in the skies over M'krah, and if his senses were correct, they were all headed towards his manor.

Instantly he was on his feet and running through the manor, shouting for everyone to awaken. The Pride females, unaccustomed to any sort of warfare, were slow to respond. A few of them ignored his shouts and went back to sleep. He cursed their peaceful lives; could they not tell something was out of the ordinary? Explosions did not occur on a regular basis in his city. Only a few cries of confusion met his ranting, and most of them from recently born cubs—his cubs. Well, his and those of his brother. At least with the older females, Kruq'nov was certain of the father.

Kruq'nov rounded a corner, nearly tripping over a stand and knocking a vase to the floor. It shattered on impact, but the veteran heeded it no attention. If those gunships reached their target, and he was certain the manor was that target, a lot more of the Pride's heirlooms would be left in shards. The trip left him off balance, sending him into the wall. He rolled off the wall and recovered his footing, cursing as his elbow slammed into a fire alarm.

Kruq'nov stopped in his tracked and rounded on the big green button. If they would not listen to his voice, maybe they would listen to the alarm. He balled his hand into a fist and slammed it into the alarm. An instant later, the halls were filled with the most gods-awful sound he ever heard. His hands went to his ears to protect his sensitive hearing from the alarm. Though his ears pained him, his goal was achieved. Instantly snarls and growls rose to challenge the ear-splitting alarm.

Kruq'nov pushed past the sudden rush of his Pride from their quarters. He stopped as his eyes met Keitcha's. She looked at him in alarm. "What is going on? Where's the fire?"

Kruq'nov pointed upward. When Keitcha did not understand, he spoke two words. "Air raid."

"Air raid?" the concept was foreign to her as any other Pride female. There were stories of the Terrans launching a raid against Ghorah Khar, but that was more than two Shrik ago, before her Pride arrived on the planet. "The Terrans? Why would they—"

Kruq'nov let out a sharp hiss to silence her. "It's not the Apes. It's the Shrekhar."

Another explosion hit, this one nearly directly above them. The gunship fell from the sky, crashing into the manor's vast yard. The crashing bomber and its payload hit with such force as to knock many of the M'krah Pride off their feet. Kruq'nov's head rang from the sound and he dimly heard the whine of falling bombs. With only seconds to act, Kruq'nov through Keitcha beneath one of the hall's arches and through his own body over her to shield her and his unborn cubs from the coming explosion.

Kruq'nov and Nrsah surveyed the wreckage left in the wake of the Shrekhar attack. Half of their manor was left in ruin and several females and cubs were unaccounted. A few were dug up from the ruins. Nrsah roared in fury as the body of Meichar was drug from the ruins still clutching a cub in her arms. Neither lived through the attack. Meichar was his favorite, like Keitcha was Kruq'nov's. As such, Kruq'nov never touched the female, meaning the dead cub was also Nrsah's.

Both Pride Kings fought to contain their rage. With no enemy in sight to kill it did them little good to give into bloodlust. "They will die for this," Nrsah snarled as he paced about the ruins.

"They will," Kruq'nov agreed. "Do not worry about that brother, they will indeed die." He hoped Nrsah did not charge headlong at the first Shrekhar than stumbled across his path.

Nrsah refused to be mollified. "They will die soon. We should have struck at them openly by now instead of slinking around in the dark like—like—"

"Like dirty Apes?" Kruq'nov offered. Nrsah flashed his teeth in a predatory smile. "We will move as soon as all our pieces are in place and not a second before. It would do us no good to strike until we're ready."

Nrsah continued to pace. He did not like the answer, not one bit. He wanted to rip out some Shrekhar throats now, not wait. He knew his brother spoke wisely. It was better to strike and win than strike for satisfaction. His fury so consumed his attention that he nearly tripped over an arm sticking from a pile of rubble. Regaining his balance with his ancestral predator's grace, he whirled on the obstacle, kicking fiercely at it. The hairless and burnt arm of a Terran slave reached out from beyond like the undead crawling from its tomb.

"Even in death these creatures still haunt us," Nrsah hissed. He was no more pleased by the presence of Apes in his household than Kruq'nov, though he was far less vocal in his opposition.

Kruq'nov was about to make his own comment on Terrans when a roar of anguish caught both of his ears like wind to a sail. He turned towards the voice and saw Keitcha clutched in an embrace with the Matriarch, wailing in sorrow. He bounded towards her, deftly crossing the ruined landscape. Ahead of him, Keitcha, Shelcha and Gherelith stood near a recently uncovered body.

Kruq'nov came to a stop upon laying eyes on the deceased. This was no junior Pride female, but the corpse of Ghenkril, sister of the Matriarch and mother of Keitcha and Shelcha. Keitcha broke free of her aunt and turned to comfort and be comforted by her twin. Both females survived the bombing with a few bumps and bruises, to which Kruq'nov thanked the gods.

Kruq'nov stood next to the sisters and looked down at the fallen Ghenkril. Like Nrsah's favorite, she had an infant clenched in her grasp. The child was just as dead as her aunt. Kruq'nov roared in fury, recognizing the newborn as one of his own. The night's events struck Kruq'nov at full force, nearly knocking him onto all fours. He was supposed to protect the Pride, that was one of the two roles of a Pride King, and he failed.

The air defenses hastily built in the city were not enough to stop the air raid. Should-launched missiles could not take the place of proper plasma cannons. Short ranged missiles were the best he could do with the money available. If he had more funds—no, he would not shift blame for this disaster. He failed in his duty and would not have to spend the rest of his life trying to overcome this disaster.

Gherelith walked over to Kruq'nov and placed a hand upon his shoulder. "I should have listened to you. You were right, and I ignored your advice. You wanted heavy weapons to defend the city and all I could offer were those fireworks."

Kruq'nov brushed the arm away. Defense was his responsibility and he would allow no one to claim his failings. "Perhaps they would have helped, but it would not have stopped them from launching this attack."

"There will be another," the Matriarch half-said and half-asked.

Kruq'nov bowed his head. "Of course. They will likely come on foot to clean up whatever is left." The probably expected to catch the M'krah unaware and kill most of them while they slept. It added insult to injury. The Shrekhar had such a low opinion of the M'krah that they treated them like beasts of prey and not honored foes. The accursed Apes had more honor than the Shrekhar.

"And you will be ready?"

Against Kruq'nov bowed. "We will. The Shrekhar will find resistance to their governorship is alive and well. None of them will leave our city alive."

Gherelith brightened at his words. In the morning light, standing amongst the partial ruin of her home, the Matriarch showed her age. Kruq'nov never realized just how old she was. He knew she was past child-bearing, but the true depth of her age only showed in disaster. How much longer did she have to live? Long enough to see her enemies dead, that much was certain. "When you deliver the killing blow to our enemy, I wish to be there. I want to see the Shrekhar fall and my Pride avenged.

Kruq'nov gave her a savage smile. "That can be arranged Matriarch. That can most certainly be arranged."


	5. Chapter 5

**Ghorah Khar 2665-A**

Kruq'nov squatted in a bombed out building, its walls still crumbling from the air raid two days past. He was not sure what part of the compound this building had once belonged. Judging by its small door, the only one he could find lay on the ground, its frame all but shattered; it was once home to the M'krah Pride's slaves. A great number of Terran slaved died in the bombing, not a terrible loss in the King's opinion. Unfortunately he knew the Matriarch well enough to know she would soon replace them. He advised Firekkans, if for no other reason than Birds lacked the guile of Apes.

To his surprise, Gherelith agreed with his advice though not for the same reason. Apes bred like vermin but Birds were far rarer. They were a luxury item in the slaver industry, one that only truly wealthy or powerful Prides could afford. When the Shrekhar were dealt with, the M'krah-Mercher alliance would effectively rule the planet. It would be an impressive feat had Ghorah Khar a large population. Still, to be King of a planetary Pride was an achievement far beyond the former noncommissioned officer's most insane dream.

He was not alone in taking cover. After the bombing he expected the Shrekhar to follow up by moving their soldiers into M'krah to finish the job. Some high born officer might choose the dead of night or the crack of dawn to launch an attack, but not Kruq'nov. For one, he did not feel like waking up that early. For another, more important reason, he knew the enemy's infrared sensors would be useless with the sun directly overhead. M'krah was already as hot as a Kilrathi's blood, allowing Kruq'nov and his militia to blend in with the rubble.

On the outskirts of the city, Nrsah reported the enemy moving in force with perhaps eighty soldiers riding in eight-and-four armored vehicles. Nrsah had to kick and slash to keep his warriors in line. They were not to attack at first sight. Kruq'nov wanted them to wait until the enemy to retreat to spring their ambush. With such a small invasion force, the Shrekhar obviously expected most of the M'krah to be dead. Even at their reduced state, the Pride still numbered far more than the paltry eighty sent by the Shrekhar.

As he sat with his cheap Terran-built plasma rifle in his grasp, he could not help but feel insulted by the small assault. Did the enemy really think so low of the M'krah? The smugglers obviously kept their shipments secret. Had his enemies known how well armed they were, they would have to send the whole Pride to attack. Kruq'nov knew the effectiveness of Terran weapons first hand, but he could not help but feel silly holding what appeared to be a child's toy in his massive hands. With the trigger guard still in place, he was forced to extend a claw to reach the trigger.

Next to him in the crumbling ruins sat Kral, holding a puny should-launched missile in one hand. He felt as ridiculous as Kruq'nov when he held the weapon. He was assured that the missile would penetrate armor, but it looked no larger than an ancient, hand-thrown javelin. "Get into firing position," Kruq'nov ordered him, along with two-eights other missile launchers. As soon as the armored vehicle rumbled on to the property, he would give the order to fire.

Kruq'nov roared in delight as the rear most armored personnel carrier erupted into flames. The first shot he insisted should disable the rearguard. With the road blocked, the rest of the convoy found it difficult to escape. They found it impossible when the second missile took out the lead vehicle, trapping the rest between two burning wrecks. Shrekhar warriors poured from the remaining APCs. A few of them managed to take cover before the concussions of exploding trucks sent them crashing to the ground. Kruq'nov watched several of the warrior writhe in agony, chunks of durasteel sticking from their backs.

Shrekhar's untried warriors stumbled around the field, unsure where to go or what to do. Kruq'nov knew better than to place untested Kilrathi into the spearhead of the assault. Perhaps his enemies all thought he was dead. It was a mistake these invaders would not live to regret. After two more vehicles blossomed into flowers of durasteel and flame, Kruq'nov rose from cover and began methodically picking off survivors. Seeing their lord open fire, all others in view did likewise. Kruq'nov noted with some disappointment that they missed more often than they hit. _

With each shot fired, Kruq'nov let out a growl of delight. This was the way wars were meant to be fought. Not in toxic trenches but out in the open, advancing on the foe as they fell. It was as the ancient philosopher once said; wars are much more fun when you are winning. He picked off one of the Shrekhar officers the moment he tried to impose order on his warriors. The bulk of the invaders were amateurs, males who never fought in anything more dangerous than a drunken brawl.

In only a minute, the Shrekhar invaders were reduced to nothing. The last enemy warrior fell with a curse on his lips. Kruq'nov appreciated that sort of death. Even as the dark gods of the underworld reached up to claim his soul, the male managed one final defiant taunt. Kruq'nov stood over the dead warrior. He cast aside his puny Terran rifle and scooped up the Shrekhar plasma rifle. The sharp edges were as familiar to him as his own brother. It was the same model used during his army days, the same model used by warriors for generations.

"Salvage whatever you can!" he barked over the crackle of fire. He sought and found Nrsah quickly in the mass of victorious warriors. The brothers exchanged knowing glances. Now that Shrekhar blood was drawn in the open, this could only end in the complete destruction of the Shrekhar or M'krah and Mercher and to the winner would go the frontier world of Ghorah Khar.


End file.
